Betrayal
by Gariand
Summary: You can't choose who you love, or who you love more.... Chapter 8 up!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: South Park is not mine. I may wish it was, but it's not. Now read the fic.

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**Betrayal: Prologue**

I think I'm confused. And I don't know what to do.

What do you do?

What do you do when you see them together every single day, practically joined at the fucking hip, shoving their tongues down each others throats. It sickens me, and it would probably sicken you too, if you had the misfortune to look upon it.

Trouble is, it took me a while to work out exactly what part of it sickened me. Was it that I didn't like the thought of people kissing?

No.

Was it that I was jealous of Wendy kissing Stan?

Yes.

Was it that I was jealous of Stan kissing Wendy?

Yes.

Am I confused about who I love?

No.

Everyone says bisexuals are confused. Even homosexuals themselves think that bisexuals don't know what their sexuality is. Yes, homosexuals feel oppressed by the heterosexual community. Bisexuals, unfortunately, are oppressed by both.

Of course, I was never unfamiliar with oppression. Hearing the Fatass's constant remarks of "Dirty Jew" and "Jesus killer" gave me a sort of second skin, a layer that let most sniggering comments glide over my head (and jewfro).

But I know I am not confused about who I love. I know I love both Stan and Wendy, just not together. Of course, through all the arguments I've had to put up with between the two, I've had to take Stan's side; I was his "super best friend" after all. But sometimes, I did want to take Wendy's side of the argument, even if it was just so she could notice me. Unfortunately, to her, I am incomparable to Stan. She will do anything to have Stan when she wants Stan. That means she both takes Stan away from me and chooses Stan over me. It's a double whammy of hurt for the lonely jewboy, stuck in his room with nothing better to do than study.

I can't win. If by some amazing miracle I manage to seduce either Stan or Wendy, then the other will hate me. I'll be stuck with either one of them but not the other.

I'm not confused about who I love.

I'm confused about who I love more.

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**Okay, the prologue is up! I'm happy because I've had this idea in my head for a while and I want to get it up and running. So sorry if the prologue seems a bit rushed, but now it's up I'll be more inclined to do it. And just another note; the prologue is in Kyle's point of view but the rest will be in third person.**

**Thank you for reading!**

**Gari**


	2. Love is not a Choice

First of all I want to extend my uttermost gratitude to both Brat-Child3 and Kyleisgod for the reviews. I think they sparked something in me to write this chapter as fast as possible. So thanks again! Any criticism, bad or good is much appreciated!

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**Betrayal: Chapter 1**

**Love is not a choice**

_Oh, shit. They're at it again_

_Why am I not surprised? Every time I even get a second with the both of them, they're locking lips, showing everybody within sight just how much they love each other, want to do each other and go off and be happy somewhere together. You'd think two people who had spent practically every waking moment together since elementary school would get tired of the taste of the others mouth. And in the fucking cafeteria as well! As if they can't find anywhere private to go off and f…_

"Hey, Jew."

Kyle sighed as the cafeteria bench sank with the weight of an obese, anti-Semitic, murderous teen. "Hello, fatboy."

Kyle assumed that his remark was either ignored or unheard by Cartman, as no "Ay! I'm not fat, I'm big boned!" followed. Instead the brown haired boy pointed his thumb to the intertwined bodies of Stan and Wendy.

"Makes ya feel sick, doesn't it?" he said with a grimace on his flabby face. Kyle had to agree, though as to exactly why, Cartman didn't need to know. After all, when he already used Kyle's religion against him, Kyle was reluctant to give him more ammo to fire.

If one thing hadn't changed, it was Cartman. At only eight years old, Cartman was the aspiring Hitler, the Jew-hating, manipulative and lethal sociopath. Now at twice the age when he tried to exterminate the Jews, have everyone who was not ginger thrown into lava and famously killed a boy's parents and fed them to him, practically everyone who was not Stan, Kyle or Kenny walked cautiously around him.

Kenny too, it seemed, hadn't changed a whole lot. True, he had grown out of and ditched his trademark parka, but the person that had resided under the fabric was still the same perverted yet loyal little bastard. He had successfully managed to fulfil his childhood dream of getting laid back in sixth grade, also earning him plenty of respect from his peers and kept plenty of people (minus Cartman) from ripping on him for his poverty, or anything else for that matter.

But Stan and Wendy… as Kyle had grown up with them, it seemed to him as though a lot changed. Wendy most of all. She was no longer just "Stan's girlfriend", she was… well, Wendy. She became somebody Kyle could talk to, about school, about interests, about problems.

"_Kyle… I realise I've known you since… well.. since kindergarten. But I think that, I think that I've never really gotten to know you as well as I maybe should have. I mean, you're a big part of Stan's life, he's spent so much time with you. It's weird really, we're both very close to Stan, but we've never been any more than just two people who know him. I want us to be friends, Kyle, it feels weird us not really knowing each other properly…"_

Kyle could hardly forget that day. After years of trying to distance himself from her, first for "being a dumb girl" and finally to stop himself from falling for her any more than he had, she had taken a leap closer to him. And what could he say in response? Refusing would have sounded childish, so he replied in the most mature way possible.

"_Sure, Wendy, I want us to be friends too."_

Of course he didn't want to be friends, he wanted to be _more_ than friends with her. He wanted her to put her long slender arms around him and announce her undying love for the Jewish boy. Unfortunately this was his imagination running wild again, as Wendy had always stated that her heart had always been, and always would be, for Stan and Stan alone.

Stan.

Kyle had always liked Stan. There had always been that bond between them. Something more than friendship. For Kyle, Stan had always been there, always had his back, saved his life more times than he could count and still asked for nothing in return. Kyle owed him everything, and still inside wished to take Wendy from him, still wished to have Stan for his very own.

And he hated himself for it. Anybody who says love is a choice is wrong. Nobody, especially somebody as sensible as Kyle, would have chosen this. Chosen to want to repay Stan's friendship by desiring Wendy. Chosen to want to repay Wendy's kindness by coveting Stan. No, nobody would want this.

"Ky?"

The red haired Jew was distracted from his inner angsting by the voice beside him.

"Dude, come on. Lunch is over."

Kyle sighed and tried to act as if the two great loves of his life weren't rounding first base barely a metre away.

"Alright, Kenny I'm coming."

Kenny's face pasted itself into a look of bewilderment. "Dude, what the hell? You look and sound as if I interrupted you from something important. You've finished your food, you've done practically all your homework…"

"It was nothing. I was just… concentrating."

It seemed that that answer was enough for Kenny, who merely shrugged his shoulders and called to the writhing mass at the end of the table.

"Oi! Monsieur Love!" he said in a phony French accent. Stan and Wendy finally broke apart from their furious make out session. "Come on, English class. Now."

As he and Kenny left the lunch hall in an attempt to make Stan follow them, Kyle couldn't help but glance back at the couple. It pained him to see how Stan looked at Wendy, and how he would never be looked upon by the quarterback in that way. It hurt equally as bad to see Wendy would whisper into Stan's ear, and that he would never feel her breath on his cheek.

"Kyle?"

He turned around to see Kenny staring at him, with a concerned look on his face.

"What is with you lately? You keep on zoning out on me, dude! What with Stan being too busy with Wendy and you constantly spazzing out on me, I'm only gonna have the fatass to talk to!"

"Ay! Don't call me fat, you poor piece of crap!"

"Seriously though, Ky, is there anything wrong?"

Kyle forced himself to smile into the blond boys eyes.

"I've just got a lot on my mind is all."

Understatement of the century.

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**Okay, Chapter 1 is now up. Huzzah! Please forgive me if it seemed too introductionary and not really advancing the plot. I'm still not entirely happy with it and might change it if I get the chance. The prologue was to kind of introduce us to Kyle's feelings and this was to see how he interacted with those feelings. **

**Okay, so last night I sat down and wrote a list of the upcoming scenes I want in this fic and in what order and realised that I've got about 20 different scenes with about 10 more "extras" so I have absolutely no idea how long it's going to take me to write this fucking thing. However I do promise to finish it someday, as I am interested to see how this plays out exactly.**

**Plus I've also realised that I'm going to do a whole lot of angsting in this fic, in plenty of chapters to come. Hooray! Angst! And not just in Kyle either :D. I'll leave comedy to people who write it better than I do, so if you love angst as much as I do, please hold out for the upcoming chapters. Angst, angst, angst! **

**Thanks for reading!**

**Gari**


	3. In the Middle

**Betrayal: Chapter 2**

**In the Middle**

The photo he was clutching fluttered silently to the floor, landing softly on the rug. It was stupid really, crying over a photo, but he couldn't help it. Every time he looked upon the image, his eyes would fill with tears and his body would be racked with sobs. He couldn't help it, he really couldn't.

Kyle dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying desperately to wipe away the tears that flowed from his eyes. He felt weak, stupid, blubbering over a stupid picture, a picture that he probably shouldn't look at if it made him act like this, but a picture that he so desperately wanted not just to look at, but to fall into.

He picked up the Polaroid again, knowing that he was being a complete idiot, that just by looking at it wouldn't change a thing, but he needed to, at least once more. It was more addictive to him than any drug.

It was taken over seven years ago, just after his kidney operation. His mother had obviously thought the scene was cute, and couldn't resist the picture. Why she had had a camera on her person at the hospital, Kyle had never asked her, but he was grateful for the picture it preserved.

* * *

"_Hey Kyle!"_

_Kyle grinned as two familiar faces walked through the hospital doors. He was always thankful when visitors were allowed in. Lying in a hospital bed all day with nobody to talk to was not what most people would call fun._

"_Hey, dudes."_

"_I hope you don't mind, I brought Wendy over too."_

"_Why would I mind? The extra company is much appreciated. I swear to Abraham, Stan, if I have to stay in this bed for much longer, I'm going to die of boredom!"_

_Stan smiled. "So where's the fatass? I thought you guys were in the same room?"_

"_We were, but they shoved him into a guarded room."_

"_Dare I ask why?"_

"_A nurse caught him standing over my bed with a knife in the night." Kyle let out a weak chuckle. "Son of a bitch was trying to 'take back what was rightfully his', if you can believe that."_

"_Funnily enough, I can. So what's it like with the fatass's kidney?"_

"_Apart from the constant milk-sneezing and anti-rejection tablets? Pretty good I guess…"_

"_You able to finally pee?"_

_Kyle couldn't help but laugh at Stan's crude joke, but suppressed it as well as he could; it hurt the tender stitches where he'd been sewn up barely twenty four hours ago. Plus, a huge spurt of milk threatened to burst from his sinuses. "Stan! For fuck's sake…!"_

_Stan smirked apologetically. "Sorry, couldn't resist."_

"_Don't worry about it. It's just nice to have some other noise than that fucking beep. I feel like unhooking it sometimes. THEN I'd have some fucking company!"_

"_Jeez, Kyle, you're cursing more than you usually do."_

"_It's this fucking bed!" Kyle yelped. "It's this fucking room. I thought it would be great to have time to myself, great to just laze about all day. But it's so BORING! It's driving me fucking insane!"_

"_Then go for a fucking walk!"_

"_I can't! The fucking drugs make me woozy and I'm still weak from a load of quacks shoving a fatboy's kidney in my back! I just feel so fucking WEAK!"_

_Wow, thought Stan, barely a day in hospital and already he's going loco. _

"_Well, we can help," piped up Wendy._

_The two boys looked at her, puzzled._

"_We could help you walk round the hospital. I know it's not great, but at least you'll be out of bed."_

_Kyle's eyes seemed to light up. Stan however, looked mortified._

"_Wendy! He's barely out of surgery and you want him to…"_

"_Staaaaan…" she replied in a voice that she knew he couldn't resist. "Look, we'd be either side of him and besides, it's not like we're taking him out of the hospital. And…" she cut Stan off as he began to retaliate "he's obviously not going to get any better if he's constantly in this agitated state."_

"_But… health… safety…"_

"_No buts, Stan. Now grab Kyle's left arm."_

* * *

And yes, it had been just a ten minute walk around the surrounding wards, but to Kyle, it had been more that just that. Ten minutes out of a room that practically shouted boring was a huge relief.

He stared at the picture, of him in his disgusting hospital pyjamas, surrounded by both Stan and Wendy, each with one of his arms over their shoulders, supporting him. His heart ached with longing to be the person he was inside the picture, with Stan and Wendy either side of him, both making sure he didn't stumble, all three grinning at the camera when his mother had found them hobbling through the corridors.

They had cared, they had both cared. Although, he always knew Stan cared. Stan was obvious. But when it came to Wendy, there were rarely times when she paid special attention to Kyle, she was usually more engrossed in Stan (or Stan's mouth, to be exact), not that Kyle could really blame her. But even just that one remark…

"_He's obviously not going to get any better if he's constantly in this agitated state…"_

In that one remark, she had let Kyle know that she had cared about him. He never forgot it, although to her it must have been a throwaway sentence, lost from her memory, a simple comment that meant nothing to her.

_Dammit, Kyle, why do you do this to yourself?_

But to Kyle, almost everything positive that Wendy had said to him was committed to memory. He rarely had times when it was just him and Wendy, compared to the times he had alone with Stan, and he cherished every single moment with either of them, but with Wendy… there was hardly a reciprocal close friendship between them; no matter how much Kyle wanted to be close to her, Wendy was happy with their reasonable amount of contact and sufficient alliance. Any closer and she might get suspicious of Kyle's advances, and then who knows where that could lead?

Besides, she was obviously more comfortable around Stan, with good reason. He may have been tall and burly, years of being the school star quarterback having its benefits, but Stan was as gentle and as kind as anything, never hesitating to help anybody out who needed a favour. And Wendy had managed to capture his heart and make the girls in their year (and Kyle) all immeasurably jealous, although Wendy's kind heart and loving nature got in the way of anybody who could possibly hate her. The truth was they both deserved each other, and in the good kind of way.

And who did Kyle deserve?

Kyle deserved no one, and no one deserved to be burdened with Kyle. Even though he had been told often by Stan that "Someday, the right girl will come along."

How many times he had been tempted to profess his love for either Stan or Wendy during these moments, Kyle was not sure. He wasn't even sure which one he would say even if he did manage to pluck up the courage. Not that he ever would anyway. He hadn't even the courage to confide in anybody about his sexuality. Not even Stan himself. He dreaded the day Stan would guess, or hear rumours and put the pieces together. Sometimes it felt like Stan could see right through him; see his secrets, uncover all the homoerotic fantasies, find out about his feelings for Wendy and himself…

Kyle shook off these thoughts before they made him paranoid. He had told nobody, and he was hardly obvious about being bisexual. And of course, Stan couldn't read his mind. They may be close, but he's not a fucking psychic.

Suddenly, as these thoughts swirled through his brain, a blond boy poked his head around the ajar door of Kyle's bedroom.

"Que paso, Amigo?"

"Hello, Kenny."

Kenny grinned and flopped down on Kyle's dark green bed sheets. "I hope you don't mind, you seemed down at school today, well more than usual, you emo fag…"

Kyle winced slightly at the derogatory term, wondering if Kenny realised the inner hurt that that particular word had caused him.

"… so I decided to come here and cheer you up. Your mom said I could come up." He added, knowing that Kyle was particular about people just "letting themselves in" to people's houses.

"Kenny, don't think I don't appreciate it, but I'm kinda behind on homework… so…"

Kenny's face dropped to a look of disappointment.

"You don't want me around, huh?"

"No! Kenny, I told you, I have some work for tomorrow."

"Don't give me that!" Kenny's disappointed look had twisted to a scowl. "You've never been behind on homework and the exact night I come over to cheer you the fuck up when something is the fucking matter with you, you try to get rid of me! Now, tell me, what has been making you look like someone's died recently? Spill! There is something bugging you, and I want to help you, god-fucking-dammit!"

Kyle merely walked to his desk, shuffled a few papers and brought out a sheet covered in mathematical symbols.

"I told you, homework," he said calmly, handing the sheet to Kenny. Kenny studied it for a minute, and then his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Fine, Kyle," he sighed. "But now I know something _is _seriously wrong, because the last time you left homework late was fourth grade."

It was true; Kyle had a reputation among his teachers for never going over deadlines. Of course, it made his parents proud. He was their "perfect son", a title in which Kyle felt he did not fit. This particular set of work had only been unfinished for so long because of his constant brooding of Stan and Wendy. He was slightly thankful for it; it gave him an excuse to get Kenny off his back tonight.

"Just go, Kenny, please?"

Kenny lifted his thin frame off the bed and proceeded towards the door. Then his eyes caught a flicker of white as he left the room.

"Kyle, I think you dropped something."

As Kenny left the house, Kyle picked up the discarded Polaroid, and allowed his depressing thoughts to wash over him again.

"Kyle?" His mother's voice drifted up the stairs. "Is everything alright? I heard yelling."

"Everything's fine, mom," he said as normally as he could; tears had an annoying habit of distorting the voice. "We had a bit of a row but everything's good now."

If only.

And he said to himself as he had said so many times before:

_You really need to stop looking at that photograph._

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**Hooray! I'm updating quicker than I thought!**

**This chapter was surprisingly easy to write; you can see what a happy person I am! And many thanks to the new reviewers: SilverHollowShadow922, KittyCatNinja17 and Churry, and also to Kyleisgod (again) for another review! Your comments are what make it all so much more worthwhile! All reviews are appreciated!**

**Thanks for reading! **

**Gari**


	4. Touchdowns and Tears

**Right, now before reading this chapter I want readers to understand that as I am English, I have absolutely no knowledge of American football, and I won't pretend to be an expert. I can see some responses now: **

"_**Why the fudge did you write an American Football scene then, ya berk?"**_

**I just did. And I apologise for any mistakes to how American Football should be played**

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**Betrayal: Chapter 3**

**Touchdowns and Tears**

"Hut, hut, hut, hut….hike!"

The leather ball passed backwards into capable hands and with expert precision sailed into the grasp of a certain halfback, who sprinted the length of the pitch into the end zone. The sound of the commentator's elated voice rang through the pitch and stands.

"TOUCHDOWN! SOUTH PARK HIGH LEAD THIRTY-SIX TO EIGHTEEN!"

Wendy applauded high in the stands. Football season at South Park High was a huge deal to the students, parents and faculty. To her it was no more than a youth's excuse to beat each other up, but she would never let this notion on to her boyfriend or his best friend, who were currently high-fiving each other down on the pitch. With the burly Stan and quarterback and the lighter, more quickfooted Kyle as the halfback, the South Park High Team usually enjoyed the spoils of winning. Even though many had not considered Kyle "the type" to play football; after all, Kyle was the school whiz kid, and his light, lanky body made him more suited to basketball than football. Many had assumed that Stan had only let him in the team because of their friendship, but after consecutive wins and plenty of touchdowns Kyle had proven himself to the rest of the school, and the duo were considered a force to be reckoned with. Nobody wanted to be on the opposition when Stan and Kyle were playing together.

Wendy searched out Stan through the mass of team celebrating the touchdown and picked out Stan who met her gaze, and bowed overdramatically at her. She replied with her trademark gorgeous smile and wink.

She couldn't help but believe her luck at having a boyfriend like Stan; not only was he an incredible sportsman, but he had the personality of a saint. Only he would be able to forgive her for the time she dumped him for Token. To her it was a blemish on her past, a mistake in her childhood that she would never be able to make up to him. And he was able to understand. She could never thank him enough for that.

And also with Stan, came Kyle. Wendy had always liked Kyle. Not as much as she had liked Stan but there had always been a little bit of attraction. But he spent so much time with Stan anyway that she didn't lose out on spending time with him. It was almost frustrating. Those two had a bond that she could not get between, even if she had wanted to. She was appreciative of the fact that she got to be with Kyle as well as Stan, but she remembered the fateful "egg incident". She wasn't prepared to make Stan feel that jealousy again, so she kept her distance from Kyle, despite her wishes to be able to get closer to him. She loved Stan, she knew that, but there was always a certain… longing, so to speak.

* * *

Kyle felt pathetic. No matter how many touchdowns he scored, no matter how many times he ran into that end zone, she would always give him that look, and he would always act the clown to make her smile. 

He would never be able to make her smile like that. He would never be able to laugh like she could at his goofing around. And no matter how well he played, he would never have Stan or Wendy cheering especially for him, shouting his name and spurring him on. He would only have his parents sitting in the bleachers, come rain or shine, at his games.

Pathetic.

* * *

As the game drew to a close, with South Park celebrating yet another victory, Wendy hurtled down the stands, into the muddy arms of Stan Marsh. 

"Hey, babe." He smiled at her.

She snuggled into his warm body, appreciating the heat. "Hey there, champ. Fancy doing something tonight?"

"Sorry, got a guy's night in with Ky. Y'know… movie, pizza, maybe bring out the old gamesphere."

"I see. Some other night maybe?"

His smile turned into a grin. "I don't see why not." And then he placed his lips to hers.

Wendy couldn't help it. Halfway through the kiss, she opened her eyes. And what she saw nearly made her take a step back and break the contact between her and Stan.

Even through his helmet, she could see tears on Kyle Broflovski's face. He had just won a football game… and he was crying.

Why was he crying?

* * *

**Bah, it's short, I know. I've already had a complaint about the chapters being short, and about the plot not really moving forward. I'm sorry! I did it again! But I'll try to make it the last time! I promise! I promise the next chapter will further the plot even a tiny miniscule step!**

**Thanks again for reading!**

**Gari,**


	5. Like a Good Little Heterosexual

**Betrayal: Chapter 4**

**"Like a Good Little Heterosexual"**

"Take that, redhead, I just totally thrashed your ass!"

Kyle lay down the controller to glance at his triumphant friend. He loved these nights where it was just him and Stan, nights where they could joke about anything, do just about anything and talk about anything.

It was these kinds of nights where they could just be guys, and snigger at the sluts in their year, reminisce about the adventures they had as kids, discuss the football league or comment on models they saw on TV. However, these nights allowed them to talk, not always like they did around the other strutting, proud males that prowled the schoolyard. Stan and Kyle could be honest to each other, burden each other with their problems, and offer each other a brotherly shoulder to cry on. They could share their secrets and have a certain understanding with each other, that none of those words left the room. Kyle felt like it was because of these nights, that he could understand Stan inside out. Stan felt the same.

Of course, Kyle could think of much better ways of spending times like these with Stan, times when they could be alone, when they could do things that others would not have to know about. But he would never dare to even attempt to reveal these desires to Stan. Not only could it cause Stan to break off their seemingly unbreakable friendship, but to acknowledge his homosexual side that craved Stan's touch would be pushing his heterosexual side that craved his girlfriend down the ladder, and possibly push her away from him.

Kyle always felt guilty that his biggest secret, his biggest burden, could not be found out by the one person he felt closest to and longed to be even closer to. He hadn't even been able to tell him about his sexuality, let alone just who he had feelings for. After all, how would Stan react when (_if_, Kyle told himself) he found out Kyle's feelings for him? How would Stan react when he found out Kyle's feelings for Wendy?

Wendy.

She was the only other thing on Kyle's mind on nights like these. The fact that Stan had chosen to spend time with him rather than Wendy filled him with joy; he loved it that Stan wanted to be with him and only him at that particular moment. He hated it that it was only with Stan he could share this level of "intimacy", for lack of a better word. And he felt he was betraying his feelings for Wendy by loving Stan and having Stan with him, even if it was just to mess around childishly with Gamesphere.

"Hey, Kyle?"

Kyle looked back at Stan, who was fiddling with the joystick of his game controller.

"Look, Ky, I didn't want to bring this up before but… Wendy…"

Kyle tried not to let his face give any outward indication of what that name meant to him.

"Wendy… well… she seemed worried about you, dude. She said you looked a bit upset at the end of the game."

Again, Kyle was at risk of his expression betraying his inner feelings. _Wendy… was worried about me?_ Apparently though, it seemed he could put on a Poker face quite well as Stan merely shrugged and turned back to the Gamesphere.

"I understand if it's a personal subject… not that… I mean… if there _is_ something bothering you, hypothetically, of course, you can tell me… y'know… I'm here for you dude. Not that there seems to be anything up… with you."

Kyle was tempted, sorely tempted at that point to blurt out all that swam through his head at that moment, but like so many times before, he sealed his lips and brushed the comment aside in a jocular manner, like all good completely heterosexual men did.

"I wasn't upset, dude. We just won! Course I wasn't upset; sweaty maybe, but not upset!" Of course, like many others with something to hide, Kyle had to take it too far. "Hey, maybe Wendy confused my sweat with tears, eh? Maybe that's what she saw!"

Stan's eyes narrowed. "I said nothing about tears, Kyle."

"What?"

"I didn't mention tears or crying, at all. I just said that you looked upset." Stan was hurt; Kyle was definitely hiding something from him. "How would you know, unless I told you, or if you were actually crying?"

Kyle didn't know what to say back. The temptation from before had now reached to bursting point, and was likely to pour from his mouth in honest streams if he couldn't control it. To be able to come clean to Stan, to tell him his feelings, it would be a dream come true for Kyle.

But he was Kyle Broflovski; the boy who had kept this secret long enough and had managed to keep his mouth shut even under worse circumstances than these. His masculine pride forced his mouth to answer in deceit.

"Okay… you got me. I just hurt my foot during the game was all, and I didn't want you guys, or my parents, for that matter, to worry. I just fell on it weirdly, and I thought you'd think me a pussy if I mentioned it. But the pain's gone now, seriously, it was nothing."

Kyle felt a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach from every untrue word. It was a weak story, but he knew the pain from lying would be less than the pain he would feel if he told the truth.

Stan didn't seem entirely convinced, but let it go anyway. He and Kyle had been friends since… well… ever. And he could read Kyle like a book. He knew something was bothering him, and part of him wanted to press Kyle, to uncover what was causing his best friend inner turmoil, and part of him told himself to respect Kyle's privacy and to let him deal with his own problem if he didn't want to share it.

* * *

"_Stan? Stan… I think there's something up with Kyle."_

_Stan looked questioningly into his girlfriends eyes. She had pulled him aside as he was leaving the locker rooms to head home with Kyle, who was currently getting claps on the back from team mates. "What makes you say that? Has he said something to you?"_

_Wendy shook her head. "He hasn't said anything per se, but… well… haven't you noticed anything up with Kyle?"_

"_Well…" he shrugged, "kinda… but we're all just growing up, right? They say guys our age have certain… problems or something like that."_

"_I know, I know, but Kyle… he… he looked really upset after the game, and… I've noticed him… he seems… distant, sometimes… troubled. I just… he was crying, Stan. I'm positive. I could see, even through the bars of his helmet."_

* * *

Wendy could see it too; she could see Kyle had inner demons, though what they were, nobody seemed to know. Kyle appeared reluctant to share this information, even to his Super Best Friend. As to what sort of information he would be unable to share, Stan was even more in the dark. 

Stan had noticed it, Wendy had noticed it, Kenny had noticed it.

But one other had noticed. One who could ruin everything.

* * *

**Huzzah! Yet another chapter up! I realise it is another pretty short one compared to the novel length ones I have seen posted. But I do hope that I have included a bit more Kyle/Stan than just Kyle/Wendy in this chapter. After looking at my notes on this fic we are finally crossing into the chapters with more plot! YES! Although I love angsty fics, too much of a good thing and all that.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Gari**


	6. The Passion of the Cartman

**Betrayal: Chapter 5**

**The Passion of the Cartman**

Cartman was pissed. Which was no suprise, considering the amount of things that pissed him off. The Jew, for example. The ever-so-mighty, I'm-so-much-smarter-than-you-fatass Jew. The Jew that always brought him down, even when he was on top. The Jew that could always find a way to beat him. Stupid Jew.

In a way he was jealous of Kyle. Sure the asshole had a bitch for a mother, but at least that bitch of a mother gave a damn about her son. At least that Jew bitch acted like a bitch for the welfare of Broflovski Junior. His own mother was the disgrace, a complete whore, and constantly feeding him as a cover up for her truly unacceptable parenting. It was sad really.

Not to mention Kyle's awesome brainpower. Not only could the son of a bitch speak not only fluent English and Hebrew, but he aced every other language class, every science class, heck, every fucking lesson at school the know-it-all gaywad had to show off his amazing brain, get high marks and set himself up for fucking Harvard.

And to add insult to an already painful injury, everybody liked Kyle. Nobody ever really ripped on him (excepting Cartman himself of course), and if they did, it was never set out to harm his feelings. Not like with Cartman. Still, it was not like Cartman hadn't gone through worse.

"_Hey, fatass!"_

"_You going off to eat more pies, you fat fuck?"_

"_What's the matter, fatty? You got nothing to eat?"_

Childish insults, yes, but they could still pierce his skin and make him hurt. Not that he'd ever let them know his shame. He'd just flip them the finger or swear at them even worse, while his mother would smother him in the false reality that he was just big boned, or it was his genes, and it wasn't his fault he was fat. Although, truthfully it wasn't his fault. It was hers.

All this the daywalker Jew had better than him. And still he insisted on coveting the one thing that Cartman wanted. Cartman had seen him, staring at her. Every second that Kyle and her were in the same room his green eyes never left her, even when she was eating her boyfriend's face off. The faggy Jew was probably imagining himself in place of the boyfriend. The stupid fuck.

Not that Cartman himself hadn't imagined it himself. Ever since the fateful kiss from the South Park flag debate, he had constantly thought of her. He may have seemed little more than a brat, but underneath the malice and flab, he was a little boy with no parental role model and the hurt of an unrequited love.

"_I can't believe it. All the pressure's on us. I mean, this debate is going to actually affect the outcome of the vote."_

"_Uh huh," Cartman replied, seemingly unmoved by this statement._

"_Oh man, we've got to come up with rebuttals to the history argument."_

_Suddenly, a thought triggered in Cartman's mind. "Why don't we just talk about the swastika?" It appeared that all the years of researching Hitler had paid off somewhat._

"_Huh?" _

"_I mean, Germany was united under the swastika, right? But, obviously history wasn't as important as changing the views after the war and stuff, so they changed it." _

_Wendy hesitated for a moment. Did THE Eric Cartman just come up with a relevant and sensible comment? After no alarm bells went off in her head, she conceded that he had, but for some strange reason was not annoyed that he had thought it up before she had. "Hey, that's a pretty good point, Cartman. It's not bad at all. I may make that our first argument." _

"_Cool." _

_Wendy's eyes and hand strayed to the plate in front of them both. " Double-stuffed cookies are my favourite." _

"_Really? Mine too. What I really like to do, is I like to take the tops off of two cookies, and then put them together and make 'quadruple stuffs'." _

"_Hey, that's what I always do, too!" _

"_No way!" _

"_Yeah." She gave a small smile. "Jesus, I never thought I'd have anything in common with you, Cartman." _

"_Me neither." _

"_Aha ha." _

"_Huh." _

"_Well, anyway, let's get back to work." They looked at each other in disbelief as they simultaneously had uttered the same sentence. _

_Cartman was the first to break the silence. "Whoa." _

_Weird, um. Okay. Uh. Now, let's say that first we talk about the history of the flag. We can show that the…" Her voice faltered as she felt the weight of Cartman's hand upon her own. _

_Cartman could feel the tension between them. He could hear his rapid heartbeat in his ears. "Errr, s-sorry." She was making him act weird; he didn't attempt to grab the cookie from under her hand, instead acting the gentleman. " Go ahead." _

"_No." She shoved the plate back towards him. "You go ahead." _

The conversation still sparked butterflies in the fat boy's stomach. He still dreamt about it. He dreamt about the day that Stan and Wendy would break up for good, and he could ask her out, confess his feelings and how she would swoon into his arms, overcome by his poetic words.

But more often than not, these dreams would be plagued by a certain red-haired Jew, sweeping Wendy off her feet and uttering the words:

"_You may have got everything material you wanted, but I have Wendy, something neither you nor your mother can buy."_

Even thinking these words brought tears to Cartman's eyes. Sadness always brought out his destructive side; he swung a meaty fist to his wall and winced as pain shot through his arm. He couldn't help it; he couldn't take sadness and so channelled it into destruction and hate.

He wouldn't allow it. In the rare event that Wendy was once again available, he wouldn't allow Kyle a look in, Kyle could not desire the one thing money couldn't buy. He would make sure of it.

* * *

**Here we go, another angst chapter, only from Cartman. Yes, he is a heterosexist and has got (kinda) the wrong end of the stick. Muhaha. Oh gorgeous plot devices.**

**And I apologise for how long it has taken to write this chapter, art coursework and all that.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Gari**


	7. Drunken Confessions

**Betrayal: Chapter 6**

**Drunken Confessions**

Kyle turned as he heard a knock on his bedroom door.

"Hey Kenny."

Kenny turned his blue eyes to the floor.

"Kyle… I… I'm sorry about the other day. Some of the things I said…" He took a deep breath and carried on. "I got a bit caught up in it, y'know, and I'm just worried about you and I maybe took it too far. So I just came over to say, no hard feelings, 'kay?"

Kyle nodded back and walked over to give Kenny a friendly punch on the arm. Kenny understood the symbol among guys and retaliated with a soft punch of his own. It was amazing really, how so few words could be understood between them.

"Now," beamed Kenny, back to his usual cheerful self. "You doing anything?"

"Nothing important."

"Brilliant! Come on, argument or no argument, telling me or not telling me, I can see something's bugging you, and there's only one way to forget your troubles!"

Kyle was wary; he knew what Kenny was like. "How?"

"Get completely pissed!"

Kyle laughed straight into Kenny's grinning face. "Me? Pissed? Fat chance, you know what my mom's like; she'd break my legs!"

Kenny shook his finger. "Now, now, Kyle. You're the only guy our age who would turn down alcohol, and I have a personal stash I'm willing to share, with you and only you, for a limited time only. Now are you in?"

"Only if you're willing to drag me home to my mom, and explain to her that it's your fault I'm completely out of it."

But Kenny always had a back up plan. He was a kid who rarely got something he wanted, but when something he wanted was in his grasp, he would fight for it. And right now, he wanted to get Kyle drunk.

"Ah, but that's the beauty of it! Just tell your mom now that you're staying over at mine! By tomorrow, you'll be all sobered up and she'll never know."

"Yeah, just the hangover to contend with," Kyle muttered. Still, in his mind, he was considering it. After all, as Kenny had mentioned earlier, Kyle was the only guy in his year who would turn down alcohol, and even that was mostly because of his mother. Kenny had offered him a way to get around it, and Kyle's high school ego cried out to him to accept the offer. Plus, drowning his sorrows didn't seem such a bad idea. Wallowing in pity didn't work, moping in his room certainly wasn't helping, and if the drink knocked him unconscious then that was at least a few hours of not brooding over Stan and Wendy.

Before that triggered off more angst in him, Kyle quickly spoke to Kenny.

"Sure, that sounds awesome."

Kenny put his arm around Kyle's scrawny shoulders and beamed. "You won't regret this, _mon ami,_ I'm sure. My dad may sound like a poor hunk of shit, but trust me, some of the stuff I've nicked off him over the years will blow your mind!"

Kyle could only brace his liver in anticipation.

* * *

"_Kenny!"_

_The blonde looked up to find his face full of Cartman's bulk._

"_Kenny! I want you to do something for me!"_

_Kenny sighed. It had been like this for a long time. He was poor, he needed money and so people would pay him to do things for them. He made pretty good money out of it too, and unbeknownst to his family, who would spend the money on booze, he was saving up for later education. Perverse and crude he may be, but Kenny McKormick was anything but stupid, and he'd be damned if he was going to end up like his father._

"_What do you want, fatass?"_

_Cartman reached into his pockets, drawing out a wad of cash._

"_Listen to me, Kenny. I'll give you forty bucks to interrogate Kahl."_

_Kenny was intrigued now. "Why do you want to interrogate Kyle?"_

"_That's none of your business, Kinny!" Cartman's angry voice always distorted his vowels._

"_It is if you want me to do it!" Kenny's moral side was fighting to turn down the money, scream how Kyle was friend and he wouldn't betray him. Besides, anything Cartman wanted done to Kyle hadn't been good so far. However the prospect of college education told him to accept it and damn Kyle to Cartman's will. Kenny settled on hearing Cartman's terms first._

_Cartman was intent on getting this done, and if it meant revealing just a little to Kenny, then so be it. "I… want to know something from him."_

"_Well, duh," drawled Kenny, rolling his eyes. "That's generally the point of interrogation."_

"_I'm getting' there ai-edy!" Geez, the poor kid sure could be funny when he wanted to be. "Look, I think… I think Kahl might be in love."_

_Kenny's eyes widened at this statement. Did this mean Cartman had noticed Kyle's weird behaviour too? And, even better, did Cartman have an explanation for this weird behaviour. Of course, like everything else to do with Cartman, there had to be a catch._

"_Why would you want to know that? What could you possibly gain from knowing if Kyle is in love or not?"_

"_Because it's not so much as the fact that he's in love. It's who he's in love with."_

"_Who?"_

"_I think… no, scratch that. I'm pretty sure that it's Wendy."_

_Kenny's brain went into overdrive, putting together the pieces. It would make sense, if that was the case. He was reluctant to trust Cartman, but at the same time was ready to bound to Kyle's house now and demand the truth out of him. He was fed up of Kyle's moping and this, it made sense. He may as well do it for the money._

"_Cartman, I'll… I'll do it. On certain conditions though."_

_Cartman was fed up of waiting for what he wanted. "What?"_

"_Okay, that this isn't some attempt to sabotage Stan and Kyle's friendship."_

"_Done," replied Cartman quickly. As if he cared about the Jew and the Pussy._

"_Two, that Kyle doesn't find out that I tell you what he tells me." What Kyle didn't know, wouldn't hurt him._

"_Done."_

"_And three, tell me why you care if Kyle has the hots for Wendy."_

_Cartman shuffled on his fat feet. "Because… because…" he beckoned Kenny to come closer, lest should anyone else hear. "Because, I sorta… um… like her."_

_Kenny nodded (after all, he had suspected it for a long time) and took Cartman's money from him, as the boy in question stormed off and shouted over his shoulder "You better get it done, Kenny!" His stomach ached with guilt of selling out his friend, but he ignored it. After all, he had sorted out an agreement with Cartman, what was the worst that could happen?_

* * *

"Alright, Kyle, try this on for size," slurred Kenny as he slapped another bottle into Kyle's outstretched hand. If Kenny knew anything, Kyle was a talker when drunk; he had proven that barely a year back when Kenny himself had spiked some fruit punch with vodka at a party. Kyle had taken barely a cup and was spilling about the pranks they used to get up to at school, cracking everyone up about the time they had put fake balls on Butter's chin, making the boy in question turn red ("Uh… gee whiz, Kyle… y'..y'promised you wouldn't never say nothin' 'bout that.") Of course, the punch was then confiscated, and Kyle had apologised profusely to Butters when sober. But Kenny used that incident to know how to get Kyle to tell him what he wanted to hear. 

"A..a.auright den…" Kyle was slurring even worse than Kenny; being kept under practically lock and key caused him to drink even more in rebellion, and allow him to sink deeper into his non- Stan and Wendy stupor.

Uh-oh, he thought of them again. Usually he would try and think of something else to not think of them, but an alcohol soaked brain makes this task exceptionally hard. He slapped his hand to his head, stupidly trying to block out the thoughts piercing his dull mind.

"Whassup, man?" came Kenny's voice.

"Can't stop it, can't stop it," Kyle groaned back

"Can't stop what?"

"Thinking of her."

Kenny's brain fired up. Being of a high alcohol tolerance allowed him to concentrate more of the situation in hand. This was it, this was what Cartman had been talking about.

"Her?"

"Wendy…" So Cartman was right. "She's Stan's and only Stan's and she'll never be mine." Kyle put his face in his hands and started to sob.

Kenny, meanwhile, was starting to contemplate Kyle's words. No wonder Kyle had been down lately. It must be one thing to love a girl but to covet your best friend's girl? Kenny extended a sympathetic arm.

"Hey, Ky. Come on, you'll get over her. It's fine. You'll find a girl who's right for you, promise."

Kyle shook his head. "Can't, can't, can't. She's perfect."

"You will, dude. You'll see."

Kenny was happy that he had his information, but starting to feel slightly sick that he would have to relay it to the fatass the next day. Or was it the drink? But what Kyle said next nearly made him hurl over the redhead himself.

Kyle pulled Kenny's ear closer to his mouth, in the same fashion that Cartman had earlier that day.

"Stan… I love Stan… as well."

And with that said, Kyle collapsed onto Kenny's lap. Kenny sat there for a moment, the words playing over and over in his head like some cruel mantra.

_I love Stan… as well_.

Kenny looked down at Kyle. Had he realised the intensity of what he had said? Evidently not; he was too far down in his drink induced coma to care about anything. He reached into his pocket and caressed the forty dollars that Cartman had given him. The bills seemed to burn his touch. Was forty bucks really worth revealing this to the fatass? He threw them out of his pocket, watching them collide with the wall. He was tempted to burn every single piece of paper, but his rational side made him keep them; at least if he could give the money back, he wouldn't have to say anything.

At this point, a terrible cocktail of whiskey and guilt forced Kenny to run to the bathroom and puke out the contents of his stomach.

* * *

**Wow, I think I actually moved the plot forward.**

**This chapter was slightly hard as I was trying desperately to make Kenny not seem like a bad guy. I hope that came through. He cares about Kyle but needs the money also. Understood? Good.**

**Anyway, that's all I have to say on this. Thanks for reading!**

**Gari**


	8. Realisations and Moral Inclinations

**Betrayal: Chapter 7**

**Realisations and Moral Inclinations**

"_Goddamnit, Kyle, why are you so gay?" Stan's eyes flashed dangerously as Kyle backed away from the heat that seemed to radiate from them._

"_What is it, Kyle? Do you love me or something? Faggot. You disgust me!" Stan's words flew out of his mouth like bullets, piercing the cowering figure of the eldest Broflovski son._

_From behind Stan appeared more figures, Wendy the foremost among them. "How can you love both me and Stan, Kyle? You're either gay or you're not, and I don't want to be loved by someone who's gay…"_

_Other faces swam in and out of view; family, friends, other members of South Park. His parents stood out most of all, considering their own son an abomination of God, and tearing their shirts to signify just how dead he was to them._

"_I took you huntin' that time, and you still turned out a pansy!" came the voice of Jimbo._

"_At least I knew I was a faggot. You can't seem to make up your mind." Mrs. Garrison's face drifted to the front of the crowd._

"_Stop it, please…" Kyle's weak voice faltered at the power of the mass of people._

_Then Cartman stepped up._

"_I always said you were a fag, Jew. And I was right." His smirk became larger even than he was, filling Kyle's mind with his smugness._

"_Leave, Kyle," they chanted. "Nobody wants you here."_

_Kyle took a pleading look at those he loved most, the two ebony haired teens in front of him with arms linked._

"_Stan, Wendy, please… I love you…"_

_They merely replied with a simultaneous kick to Kyle's face._

* * *

Kyle's head shot up. He immediately regretted it as pain slashed through his cranium. His hands shot to his nose, where he was sure he felt the dual impact of Stan and Wendy's kicks. Nothing. It was still large and nearly identical to his mother's, but otherwise okay. It was just a dream. Just a dream…

Now his head was a good couple of feet from the floor than it was before, Kyle realised the stupidity of waking up from his dream like that. The sudden movement made the inside of his skull pound. _Shit, shitty, shit, shit_, Kyle thought, as a throb echoed through his head at every syllable.

"Hey, dude," said a cheerful Kenny as he stepped from the bathroom. "Feelin' alright, Sleeping Beauty?"

Kyle winced. "Jesus, Kenny, do you have to talk so loud?" He groaned and clutched at his aching head. "What the hell did we drink last night?"

Kenny surveyed the empty bottles littering the floor. "Looks like S'more Schnapps, lager, whiskey, vodka… hmmm I forgot I had some of that… and some cider, I think."

Kyle laughed weakly. "I swear to Abraham that if you ever offer to get me wasted again, Kenny…"

"Yeah, yeah, you say that now, but when opportunity knocks again, you'll come rushing back for more."

Kyle had to agree. No matter how bad he felt now, last night… last night… _Actually, _he thought, _I can't remember what happened last night. I can't even remember half the stuff we drank. _Although, that was partly the beauty of it, for Kyle to just have one night where he forgot everything, a headache in the morning was worth it.

* * *

Kenny, meanwhile, felt as if he was treading on eggshells all morning. Did Kyle remember telling him, and if he did or didn't, how should he act? Kenny, being practical about these sorts of things, decided on not mentioning it unless Kyle mentioned it.

He kept up the whole cheerful and smiling charade up to when Kyle left, and claimed he was going around to Stan's place, at which point Kenny nearly broke his vow of silence, but managed to hold back. As he watched Kyle walk away, his smile faltered, and fell as quickly as he had plastered it on this morning. He needed another drink.

Kenny went back to his room, and tidied the last of the cluttered bottles that he and Kyle had not already picked up. Kenny's mind strayed from his current worries and wondered how either he or Kyle had gotten away without alcohol poisoning. Not that he was complaining, Kenny had had a break from dying for a while, and he was keen to keep it that way.

A loud series of knocks came from the door, seven in all. Kenny sighed as there was only one person who would knock so many times in a short space of time. And sure enough…

"Goooooood morning, Mrs McKormick. Is your son home?"

Kenny always cracked up at the fake innocent voice that Cartman always put on to talk to adults.

"Kenny! Your fat little friend is here!"

As Kenny walked to the door, he could swear he heard Cartman mutter the words "big-boned" and "eat your parents".

"Weeeell?" Cartman drawled sweetly.

"Well What?"

"Dammit, Kinny! I've been waiting to spot that Jew-rat leave your house all morning, so tell me, what did you find out?"

Kenny had been expecting this and had the money in his pocket ready. It was hard for him to part with the cash, seeing as he didn't know when he'd earn more in the future. But he knew if he divulged, and kept the money… well, if Kyle didn't get him for it, his own conscience would soon enough.

"Cartman… I… here," he said plainly, as he drew the wad with trembling fingers. "Take it back… I… I learnt nothing."

Cartman looked down at his cash in Kenny's palm, his previous smile wiped away. It wasn't like Kenny to give back money.

"No, Kenny. Now, tell me, goddamnit! What did that fucking Jew say?"

Cartman could tell something was wrong with the way Kenny wouldn't look him in the eye. But he needed to persist, he needed to know. Yet Kenny continued to hold out the cash.

"For fuck's sake, Kinny! Tell me now!"

Kenny's moral inclinations pulled him back from saying anything, made him throw the money on the floor and made him shut the half-painted door in Cartman's face. Cartman could only smash on the door in anger for so long, before picking up the scattered bills and waddling away.

Kenny leaned against the back of the door for a moment, breathing deeply, but admiring himself for not betraying Kyle's secrets to the person who could use them in the most destructive manner. He slowly trudged back to his bedroom, before flopping heavily on his mattress and staring dazedly at his cracked and faded bedroom wall, still plastered with the posters of models he had collected from his youth. So young, so innocent, he thought, although probably not so innocent. He chuckled to himself, probably his first true moment of slight happiness throughout that morning.

Still, he did not allow these to stop dwelling on Kyle's words. They could, after all, cause untold damage between Stan, Wendy and Kyle himself if in the wrong hands, not to mention the amount of insults he could receive from the many students in his school.

Dammit, Kyle, he thought, why'd you have to burden me with it?

Dammit, Kenny, he said back to himself, why'd you get Kyle wasted in the first place?

Kenny understood it was his own fault and could only rectify it by keeping quiet. Unfortunately for Kenny, it was the keeping quiet that had tipped the fatass off that something was not quite right.

* * *

Cartman was far from stupid; Kenny was holding back for a reason, and Kenny was a stubborn bastard. And there was only one other person from whom he could find out what he needed to know.

To Cartman, Kyle was like a stone that could be worn down. Cartman's jibes in the past had never affected Kenny half as much as they had on Kyle, and so it was the red-haired Jew that he had more of a chance of extracting information from.

The gleaming house number 1002 caught his eye as he neared Kyle's olive coloured house. Part of him wondered why he was going to so much trouble, when he could be at home right now, gorging himself on any food of his choice. But images of Wendy flashed in his mind, accompanied by Kenny's stuttering from barely ten minutes earlier. Plus it gave him an excuse to torment Kyle, and Cartman was loathe to pass up that kind of opportunity.

* * *

**Cue Scary Music**

**Don't you love it when Cartman's incredibly driven and scary?**

**Anyway, can't think of much to say right now, so I'll merely say "Thank you for reading!"**

**Gari**


	9. Your choice, Kahl

**Betrayal: Chapter 8**

**Your choice, Kahl**

Cartman rapped on his second door of the day. This was going to get done today, even if that bastard Kenny wouldn't help. Cartman had learnt long ago that certain assholes just wouldn't help others. This was just like the Tenorman incident. Even if he couldn't get Kenny to spill, then he could at least still use him in his plan.

His knocking was replied with a swift opening of the door by a large, flame-haired woman. Cartman held his tongue and ground his teeth to stop himself from insulting her; it didn't matter what she did or how she did anything, it always annoyed the hell out of Cartman.

"Oh hello, Eric."

Even that small greeting made him have to stop himself from calling out "Jew Bitch!" Jesus Christ, you would have thought that she'd have learnt to tone her accent down, for fuck's sake.

In any case, this wasn't any time to be getting on the wrong side of Mrs Broflovski; he could save that moment for a time when he could drag more pleasure out of it. But no, now was a time for getting that Jew-rat to talk, and to get to Kyle, he first needed to get past his mother.

"Good day, Mrs Broflovski," he said, a smile adorning his cheeks. "Is your son home?"

Every word dripped sweetness. It had worked on the lady of the McKormick household not too long ago and apparently was going to work here as well.

"No, not right now, Eric. He's currently over at Stanley's. Still, he's due home any minute now if you'd like to wait."

Cartman allowed himself to be led to the immaculate front room, silently hoping that Kyle would come home quickly before he had to spend another agonizing minute alone with his bitchy mother. Thankfully for Cartman, it was barely five minutes until he heard a key scrape in the lock and the high-pitched greeting of the very Jew he was looking for.

Even the sound of Kyle's voice allowed a knowing smile to creep on Cartman's face; it was a grin that Cartman had perfected even at a very young age. It showed happiness, as most grins do, but with just the right amount of unnerving. After all, anything that Cartman found genuinely smile-inducing could not be good.

It was that grin that Kyle noticed as he first entered the room.

"Hello, Kahl."

* * *

"Dammit, Cartman, what the fuck do you want?" 

They had retreated to Kyle's bedroom; a secluded spot where Cartman could rip him to shreds. Metaphorically of course, but Cartman could still dream.

"Tell me something, Kahl. Were you or were you not at Kinny's house last night?"

Cartman had taken to strolling up and down the space in Kyle's bedroom, while Kyle himself had sat down on his bed. Cartman always liked to stand above his opponents, or victims; it gave him the feeling of power, or control. An incredible advantage against somebody as stubborn as Kyle.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Kinny told me everything, Kahl."

"He told you what?"

Cartman leant into Kyle's puzzled face, his piercing smile gleaming evilly. "I know you went to Kinny's house, and I know what you told him. You told him who you got the hots for."

Cartman loved screwing people over with lies and Kyle was no exception. He practically orgasmed at the sight of Kyle's widening, fear-stricken eyes.

"I… I what?"

"Kinny told me everything you said. He said he got you to sing like a canary last night. Not sure how though, but I don't really give a damn. As long as your goddamn Jew-mouth blabbed." There was a sense of satisfaction as a bead of sweat rolled down Kyle's forehead.

Shit, thought Kyle, Shit, God-fucking-dammit. If the hangover wasn't going to make Kyle swear off alcohol, then it was his own unhinged mouth that it brought on that would. He took a nervous gulp before pointing to the door.

"Get out… now, fatass."

Cartman shook his fat finger warily. "Now, now Kahl, we wouldn't want to have to bring your mother into this, or I could call Stan over, now THAT would be interesting."

He had merely said Stan's name to incite a positive reaction from Kyle. As he grabbed quickly at his curly red hair repeating "shit, shit, shit," Cartman could barely hide his glee. Mentally, he imagined himself scoring a touchdown.

"Oh so you don't want Stan involved?"

Kyle usually prided himself on being able to stand up to Cartman's onslaughts. For years he had put up with the usual insults of "Jew" and "Son of a Bitch", but Cartman now had access to his weakness, and Kyle felt vulnerable.

"Goddamnit, Cartman… just please… please don't tell Stan. Or my mom, for that matter, they'd… he'd kill me, Cartman." His voice became shakier by the minute. "He'd want nothing to do with me… anymore… please, dammit, please…"

"Now why would Stan do a thing like that?" With every sentence came more mock innocence from his lips. He was leading up to the Jew admitting in words that he liked Wendy. Of course, in his head, Cartman already had it all worked out, still, it never hurt anybody to hear it from the horse's mouth.

"Stan… He can't know how I feel… about Wendy or him."

Kyle's last utterance stopped Cartman in his pacing. The Jew had definitely admitted his feelings for Wendy but…

"For who, Kahl?"

Kyle had obviously not noticed what his words had done to Cartman. In his own mind, Cartman was merely asking him again for the sick pleasure of it. It was like Cartman to do, and Kyle was at that moment too scared of Cartman revealing all in that he just repeated himself to go along with him.

"Stan and Wendy. I love…" He gulped, only imagining the pleasure Cartman was no doubt extracting from this. "…both Stan and Wendy." He buried his ashamed face in his hands.

Cartman, on the other hand, was stood stock-still in shock. He didn't know whether to shout "FAG!" at an unreasonable volume, to start laughing his ass off at the gayness of it all, or to just leave, right now.

"Kahl… Kahl… you what?"

Kyle blinked up at the confused Cartman, and realised.

"You bastard!"

Cartman turned around to see red hair and red face obscuring his view.

"You complete asshole! Kenny didn't tell you anything, did he? Did he?"

"So what if he didn't? You believed he did, and that's all I needed to make you talk!"

Kyle was getting angrier by the minute. If he didn't shut up, he would tip his mother off, and Cartman wasn't brave enough to take on two angry Broflovskis.

"Listen to me, Kahl! You shut the fuck up right now, and maybe I'll keep your filthy jew secret for a while longer."

Even when angered, Kyle knew when to be quiet. For now, he would just have to go along with what Cartman wanted.

"Good, Jew." Cartman again had the upper hand. "Now listen to me; not only are you a Jew, you're an official fag now, so I have no reason to give you anything at all. Still, nobody need know you're a buttfuckin' queer, not even Stan himself."

Kyle knew Cartman, and if he knew Cartman like he thought he did, then Cartman only wouldn't spread such juicy information if he…

"You want something, don't ya fatass?" he sighed.

"Very good, Kahl. I do want something. Or, to be more precise, I want you to not do something."

Kyle stayed silent and stared at the floor; he braced himself for Cartman's request.

"I want you to stay away from Wendy."

"WHAT? Why?"

"That's not part of the deal, Kaaahl!" Cartman growled, extending his distorted version of Kyle's name to even more annoying lengths. "You don't talk to her, you don't touch her, you stay away from her, ya hear me!" His breath was speeding up as he barked his orders. "You do that, and your filthy Jew parents don't need to know, and your pussy friend don't need to know!"

Kyle was still gazing at the floor, an almost dead look across his eyes. "I… I don't think I could do that."

"Your choice, Kahl. Stay away from her or I spill. That's up to you."

He crossed the floor and left the room quickly before Kyle got into one of his Jew rages again. It was the Jew's fault if he was forced to tell people, he had made that quite clear. And on the plus side, there was no way that Kyle could get any closer to Wendy. Cartman was almost glad for his faggy habits; it had given him some leverage. And as Cartman had proved in the past, all he needed was leverage.

**

* * *

I love a cruel, conniving Cartman. He'll do anything to get what he wants.**

**Anyway, thank you for reading!**

**Gari**


End file.
